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1895 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



ESSIE 



A ROMANCE IN RHYME 



LAUEA DAYTOX FESSEXDEX 



ILLUSTRATED BY J. H. VANDERPOEL 




I 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

10 MILK STREET 

B O S T O X 



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COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY LEE AND SHEPARD 

All rights reserved 

Essie 



PRESSWORK BY ROCKWELL AND CHURCHILL 



ESSIE 



PRELUDE 

'' It's a horrid bore,"' quotii my ]ady, " but I 

see nothing else to do. 
They were very kind to Laurence," and here 

my lady drew 
Her Point d'AlenQon tnouchoir, and wiped a tear 

or so 
From her ruddy cheek (a tribute to her boy, 

dead long ago). 
'' Well, do as you like, my lady," says my lord 

fi'om behind the JVeivs. 
'' Invitations I don't interfere with, so, my lady, 

do just as you choose." 




THE INVITATION 

My dear Mlss Bkuce, — We are Hearing your 

annual holiday ; 
I presume it is rather stupid when your school- 
mates are away ! 
Do you think a trip to England your pleasure 

would enliance ? 
If yes. make your preparations for leaving la 

belle France. 
I have in my iiome no daughters to help make 

time })ass away 
(Only Sir Cliarles and myself, dear), so I fear 

'twill be far from gay : 
And McPherson (my son) is making, if I 

rightly understand. 
An arrangement witli a stag party to summer 

in Switzerland. 

7 



8 



j<:ssjiij 



AnoLlu'r lliiiijj;' : wt; liavc d(;ci(l(;(l not to open 

our lioiisi^ ill town, 
So I fear llu; iittr;i(^l ions I ol'lV;]- iivv, not of a 

kind 1(» crown 
A yonn^- ^iiFs ciii) with pUiiisiiic!. Still, dear, 

it you'd like; to (M)ni(j, 



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And see the old house that Tiaurenee iold you 

of as '* his homi'," 
And see the mother that lov(^d liini (and misses 

him day by day ), 
Yon will iiiid a, kindly welcome, 

From your friend, 

Mahv Lancjley. 



THE A r fJEP TA S CE 



THE ACCEPTANCE 

Mv DEAii Ladv Langley. — Ym sittincr in the 

lioiTidest chatter and din 
Of at least five nations of school-girLs : so it's 

rather hard to begin. 
To tell you how glad I am to leave this la helle 

France. 
(\i Yd been invited to Hades, last summer, I'd 

jumped at tli.e cli.ance.) 
I had to show my guardian your letter tliat 

asked me to come. 
He's an American fossil, that used to live near 

us at home ; 
But, from Ijeing for yeai-s in Paris, he's grown 

to adopt their way 
Of guarding wards and daughters, which, really, 

I must say, 
To a girl of republican spirit, is just a regular 

cross ; 
For (to u<e a coined word of my country-) each 

girl Is about her own •• boss " 



10 ESSIE 

In the land of the " S tar-Spangled Banner," in 

that dear land of the free, 
So I jnst detest Mr. Jenkins, and his Frenching 

it over me. 
So when old Gnardy Jenkins, in one eyeglass, 

tried to look \A'ise, 
And began a long string of qnestions, I felt 

my very hair rise, 
And I said, "Look here, INIr. Jenkins, I'll just 

have you to know. 
If you shrug and talk till you're hlack in the 

face, all the very same, I shall go I " 
He gave in at once (per usual), he bade ]Madam 

"to prepare 
Mademoiselle for a journey to England — Ma- 
demoiselle would summer there." 
I am o-lad that you have no dauo-hters, — o-irls 

always end w^ilh a row 
Over some soft thing or other, one can't tell 

Avli}^ or liow ; 
Then I'm glad 3'our son's in the mountains, for 

I'm only just sixteen, 
And men have a fashion of thinkino- a o-irl of 

t> to 

that age rather "green;" 
As for being out of a city, I've precious too 
much of that here ; 



THE ACCEPTANCE 11 

And your proper London acquaintances would 

style me horrid and queer ; 
And then, my dear Lady Langley, it will be so 

sweet to know 
I am treading the very pathways that Laurence 

trod lonof ao-o. 
I Avas very fond of your Laurence ; I liked his 

odd, foreign way ; 
And used to sit beside his bed in preference 

to play. 
For you knoAV, my Lady Langley, that Lau- 
rence was poor and ill : 
And even now, in looking back, my eyes begin 

to fill. 
From the first he seemed fond of Essie — Essie, 

my lady, is me. 
I don't know how it happened — I was wild as 

I could be. 
Mamma died Avhen I was a baby, and so (though 

papa was refined) 
I grew u[) wilful and slangy, and never was 

known to mind. 
Tlie doctor said 'twas consumption ; that Lau- 
rence would have to go 
Away from us, up to heaven, before the winter's 

snow. 



12 



ESSIE 



Laurence was not sad at the summons ; and 

once, when I was near 
(I always was near liim some way), lie called 

to me, '' Essie, dear ! 
Are your tasks for the day all tinished ? " 

''Yes," I said, ''and \A'hat then?'' 








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'* Come and sit down beside me, and bring your 

paper and pen. 
I want you to write me a letter ; and, Essie, 

I want it to be 
(Until T die), little Essie, a secret ])etween you 

and me : 



THE ACCEPTANCE 13 

'Twill not be long, wee lassie (and I shall be 

glad to die)." 
So I sobbed him out a promise, but he bade 

me " not to cry." 
Well, I wrote the letter, my lady, how you 

read it, I can't think, I'm sure, 
For I had no idea of spelling ; punctuation I 

could not endure ; 
But I wrote his words, my lady, and Fm sorry 

now to state, 
That I just absolutely abhorred you, with the 

hatingest kind of hate. 
What if poor dear Laurence had been wilful 

and wild. 
It seemed so very unnatural that a mother 

should see her child 
Turned in shame from the roof-tree, with a 

father's curse on his head. 
Your husband seemed a monster ; but Laurence 

always said. — • 
" Essie, I richly deserved it, I was wilful and 

bad : 
I know my wayward spirit has made my lady's 

life sad." 
You know how he asked '' forgiveness " — that 

'' kind memories you would keep 



14 ESSIE 

Of your youngest boy — your Laurence — who 

soon would be asleep." 
So glad to rest in quiet, after life's short day, 
But what's the use of recalling when I only 

want to say, 
That I'm glad you forgave him, — glad that 

Laurence rests 
With the turf of old England above liim — the 

land he loved the best. 
And as to our kindness, my lady, we Ameri- 
cans have a way 
Of being a generous nation ; of being apt to 

say 
To a stranger that asks our protection, a '"yea," 

and not a •• nay." 
But enough of all tliis. Til be with you ere 

the close of the week ; 
And, my lady, I really intend to be docile and 

ofcntle and meelv. 
I hope your son's in the mountains, or, if not, 

that we shall cry truce. 
Believe me, my lady, I'm ever, 

Your little friend, 

Essie C. Bruce. 



ESSIE'S EIliST HOME LETT Eli 15 



ESSIE'S FIRST HOME LETTER 

Dear Chicken, — I've crossed the Channel, 

and reached the old English shore 
(Every time I get on the ocean Em sicker tlian 

ever before). 
Old Guardy was true to the last; and stuck 

to me like a burr, 
And the lectures and cautions he gave, will not 

in the least deter 
Me from doing just as 1 like. Can a leopard 

change his spots? 
'^ No, lie can't." Well, do you suppose his talk- 
ing would change me lots ? 
I said, why shouldn't '' they stare ; " Em ve/'j/ 

pretty, grandpa. 
You can't deny that; for they say, '*! am like 

poor mamma ; " 
And that she was a belle in her youth, and 

t/ou were her beau. 
Till Dr. Bruce came and cut you out, so you 

can't be surprised, you know ; 



16 ESSIE 

But ill ni}" lieart, dear Charley, I felt a little 

bit queer, 
A flutter of expectation, and a tinj^ bit of fear. 
At the steamer's dock there met me, the stew- 
ard, a Mr. Ray, 
He had come that morning from Leighcroft — 

all the way; 
And his manner was so respectful that I began 

to see. 
That if Guardy was provoking, he knew what 

ouQ^ht to be. 
So I vowed I'd be calm as a duchess, and 

that, all tlie way by train, 
I would sit like a small stone image, and gaze 

out on the pelting rain. 
But my legs got awfully cramped. (I had 

skipped my dull novel through). 
And so I looked about me, as the next best 

thing to do. 
Mr. Ray was respectfully napping, screened by 

the morning Times ; 
His snores were so funny and muffled, they 

made me think of the chimes 
On our village church at home. Chick, I don't 

have need to tell 
What I did, for ^^ou know I giggled — girls 

always do, and — w^ell, 



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" ' ^°wed rd be calm as a duchess 



ESSIE'S FIRST HOME LETTER 19 

I could not vei'3' well help it, my eyes would 

take a look 
At the otliers in our couipartment, and there sat 

a man Aviih a book. 
I thouo-ht at first he was readino- but now I 

know that he, 
With very much more interest, was calndy watcli- 

incr me. 

o 

'' Ce monde est pleln de fous,'' Fve heard our 

madam say. 
I w^onder if that fellow, Chick, expected me 

to pay 
Him back the laughing glances, sucli as he seemed 

inclined to bestow? 
Chick, it could have been a flirtation (it was hard 

to let it go). 
(But 1 did.) I gave back one vacant stare, then 

turned my head awiiy. 
And kept it turned (though my poor neck ached), 

till I heard tlie porter say, 
'^ All off for Leighcroft Manor!" I saw through 

the door disap[)ear 
The heels of my Avould-be flirtation (I wonder 

if he lives here). 
j\Iy dear, the carriage that met me was just a 

familv ark. 



20 ESSIE 

And I really believe the servants expected a real, 

live, stark, 
Staring, wild American Indian, with feathers, 

war-whoop, and all ; 
For, at sight of me their looks darkened, / ivasnt 

the thing at all ; 
A miss in a Paris bonnet, en pannier, en high- 
heeled shoes, 
Instead of a sooty savage in war-paint or with. 

a papoose. 
But servants are well trained in England, so 

tliey opened tlie old ark door, 
O Chick, such snifty cushions I never lounged 

in before I 
Ray did not get in ; he simply closed the door 

and stalked away. 
And hastened to tell (I doubt not) the buxom 

Mistress Ray 
And a host of red-cheeked daughters "that the 

importation had come ; 
To call me a little '• pipe-stem," and '^ thank 

heaven the girls at home 
Had not putty faces and Chinese feet," and fifty 

other compliments. 
That I won't take time to repeat. On we dashed 

through the twilight — 




Stood 



a gentle-looking lady." 



ESSIE'S FIRST HOME LETTER 23 

The village faded away — and there dawned upon 

my siglit 
The Manor ; it stood upon a hillside, with ter- 
raced lawns before, 
And, like some grand old picture, before the 

open door 
Stood a gentledooking lady, clad in soft robes 

of gray ; 
One glance in her face, and fears. Chick, fled 

on swift wings away. 
By her side was a portly gentleman (he and 

Guardy would make a pair). 
Very fat and comfortaljle-looking, without any 

stock of hair ; 
He hurried as fast as he could, and held out 

one puffy hand, 
Wliile he said in a ivlnei/ whis[)er, '' Welcome, 

dear, to England." 
And then my lady caught me, and held me 

against her breast : 
I looked at her through a mist. Chick, and felt 

more perfect rest 
Than I have for two long years, since father's 

last kiss lav 
On my trembling, trembling lips, on the day I 

sailed away. 



24 ESSIE 

It wasn't a bit like the stories (why will nov- 
elists lie ?) 
My lady was just a Avoman, and she let me have 

my cry 
Out on her motherly bosom. Then she kissed 

me, and said, — 
"" There, there, you are tired, dearie ; cease cry- 
ing, you'll make your eyes red." 
Well, we had tea together, my lord, my lady, 

and I, 
With no one but ourselves and a white-haired 

butler by. 
Then we sat and talked of Laurence till the 

great clock struck nine. 
When my lady said, ''Are you ready for bed?" 

Be sure, dear, I did not decline. 
Dear Charley, I'm awfully sleepy, but my room 

is very swell ; 
I wisli it was not, I tell you, for it's rather 

friglitful to dwell 
With four huge life-sized pictures of some long 

o'one ladies o'av : 
I can fancy them stepping down from their 

frames when the lights are taken away. 
Tlie bed is plump and fat and high, but yet I 

haven't a doubt 



ESSIE'S FIRST HOME LETTER 



25 



Every one of those four up yonder had on it 
their '' hivincr out.'' 

•J o 

But lieavens ! I'm getting the sliivers, and I'll 

frigliten myself to deatli, 
So, Chicken, I'm yours forever. 

Your sister, 

Essie, saith. 




26 ESSIE 



Mcpherson to his friend 

Dear Philip, — ■ Tlie fates Avere against me. I 

would not be able to say 
Wliat I said, and wliat I did not, wlien T knocked 

into our man, Ka}', 
And learned 'twas his charmino- mission to briiia- 

out la j^etite squaiv 
To summer at Leiglicroft ]Manor. By tliunder, 

Phil, what a bore ! 
I am sure my lord will endure tortures far worse 

than his gout : 
/ thank heaven for Switzerland's journey, so that 

/ am counted out. 
But, as I said, luck was aq-ainst me ; for, I would 

have you know, 
I had telegraphed my A^alet to send on word 

to Leg row 
That rd take the noon train for Leighcroft, and 

arrange with him then and there 
For that sorrel colt — you know her? sired by 

'• Young Golden Hair. 



McPHEBSON TO HIS FRIEND 2i 

No time to lose, for Bronsoii was hard upon my 

track. 
So I was booked and done for. and could not 

well turn back. 
So I cornered Ray, and told liim about my little 

fix, 
Bade liim not to heed me, nor let the little 

minx 
Know I was son of my mother — no recognition 

to make : 
But, ])y George I we got seats in the very same 

cai". I donned my wide-awake. 
And when the train got in motion, I took my 

novel out ; 
And, Phil, by all the powers ! what do you 

think 'twas about? 
I had bought the thing in London, at least I 

went to the stand 
Near the depot, and took the book that lay near- 
est to my hand — 
A little American story ; the subject was very 

7nim — 
'•Helen's Babies" I tliink the title — I tell you, 

I laughed some 
Over the random purchase ; but as 'twas all I 

had to read, 



28 ESSIE 

I found, in the little urchins, friends in a time 

of need. 
I wanted to get a look at my lad}^ mother's guest ; 
But she sat with her face to the window, till 

I thought I should not be blest, 
When Ray dropped into a slumber, and sang 

such a tuneful lay, 
Tliat the o-irFs face, from the window, turned 

itself my way. 
I don't tliink it's fair in a fellow to judge of 

looks on a train. 
Besides, la petite Sauvage had been out in a 

pouring rain. 
So all I can tell you is, tliat her eyes are large 

and gray. 
That her hair is brown, and was tumbled down 

in a pretty sort of way ; 
I>ut upon this atom of girlhood I did not waste 

much time, 
I was thinking of you, old fellow, and that soon 

we'd begin to climb 
In earnest the grand Swiss mountains ; but, Phil, 

I pause to say. 
Can't you get off from town, if oidy for a day? 
I want you to see my purchase : I came here 

incognito ; 



Mcpherson to his friend 29 

But my lady has found me out, and so from 

the inn I go 
To my okl quarters at liome. So come up, and 

bring some of the boys, 
Sir Guinn if you like, or Tom, or our jolly 

friend Joe LeRoys, 
And we'll talk our plans all over, and 1 will 

venture to say 
There will be nothing stupid during your little 

stay. 
Good-night, good-night, old fellow, now, is it 

not deuced queer, 

That, after all my planning, I find myself just 

here? 

Leigiickoft Manor. 

I am more than sorry, my dear old Phil, 

To hear by post that you were ill ; 

To know that you cannot, my dear old boy, 

Take part with me in the wonderful joy 

That Thursday evening holds in store. And I 

regret the forced delay 
That still keeps back the wished-for day 
Of our Switzerland journey. So haste and get 

well ; 
And, in the meantime, I've much to tell. 
The fellows came up (five good and strong. 



30 ES.^IE 

Guinii, HaiTY, LeRoys, Tom and Will Long). 
They, thank fortune, were only a day behind 

nie here. 
So, you see, old fellow, I'd little to fear 
From my lady mother's guest, who does not in 

the least advance 
On acquaintance (she's a savage) ; and why they 

sent her to France 
Is one of the unsolved problems. I don't see 

how ma has the face 
To introduce la belle Sauvage ; I think she's a 

perfect disgrace. 
Her looks are all well enongli, complexion, eyes, 

and hair ; 
In fact, I think she would l)e called by most men 

dehonnaire. 
But manners, Phil, she has none. I asked her, 

in casual way 
(To open the conversation), how she came the 

other day? 
I thought, perhaps, the pink cheeks might a trifle 

pinker grow, 
At the seemingly innocent question ; but, I would 

liave you know, 
Slie lifted her large eyes at me, and said, in 

a pert, brisk way, — 



MrPIIERSON TO HIS FRIEND 31 

"/.^ oh, f/ou do not know, do you? I came by 
balloon from Calais ! " 

My lord led lier out to dinner, she did not seem 
honored at all ; 

She talked witli the ease of a duehess ; informed 
us '' of lier skill at ball," 

Said she '^ climbed trees, rode l)are-l)ack, played 
^shinny'" (great heavens! wliat's that?). 

And another heathenish game called ^-cradle the 
cat." 

The butler was liighly amused ; and so — strange 
to say — was my lord ; 

And my lady looked slightly perplexed, and I 
was horridly l)ored. 

After dinner we walked in the garden. I plucked 
a rose from a tree. 

And presented it to la Sauvaije, saying, '' OuhUer 
je ne puts ; " 

And what do you tliink came her answer — ^' I 
would not if I were you, 

But a man that makes a fool of liimself is noth- 
ing uncommon or new." 

And witli tliis my gentle Savage took my prof- 
fered rose of peace, 

Wliile from her sweet society I quickly sought 
release. 



32 ESSIE 

The next day the boys came down ; each I for- 
mally introduce, 
To each, in return, a dainty 7iod vouchsafes Miss 

Essie Bruce. 
I think she '' takes " with tlie boys ; she's inclined 

to snare 
A fellow into thinkino-, late nio-hts, of m-av eyes 

and brown hair. 
So Gninn has told me, Phil, and he's known 

as a hardened sinner. 
Tom is growing fond of croquet, and Lelloys 

forgets his dinner, 
In order to drink in the music of ]\Iiss Essie 

Bruce's voice. 
(Miss Essie talks too much for me, but every 

man to his choice.) 
She has won my mother completely. Last night 

I happened to be 
Out in the swinging hannnock, tlie ladies were 

waitincr for tea. 
And I saw Ja belle Sauva(je climb into my 

mother's chair, 
And lay her head on her bosom (my lady's li})S 

touched her hair). 
And I heard her voice speak softly, saw her 

sweet eyes gentle grow, 



Mcpherson ro his friend 38 

Saw her red lips part in loving words (in words 

I could not know). 
But the words brought tears to my lady's eyes, 

and brought kisses upon the face 
Of the tiny creature in her arms (^for the time 

I'd have taken her place^. 
Then Sir Charles calls her '' his beauty," says, 

*' when she goes away, 
She will take all the sunshine with her for many 

a louQ^, long^ day ! " 
The servants are her sworn allies ; they laugh 

at her lieathenish prank, 
And still (/ can't understand it), if Miss Essie 

held the rank, 
In right, of a titled princess, they could show 

no more deference true 
Than she seems to call forth from them when- 
ever her bidding they do. 
But I'm off for a constitutional ; and tliis even- 
ing, before I retire. 
For your benefit, my invalid, Fll tune my feeljle 

lyre. 
No pun intended, old fellow (you know I'm 

renowned for the truth). 
So, till evening, now I leave thee, O much loved 

friend of my youth ! 



34 ESSIE 



ESSIE TO HER PAPA 

My dear, dear Papa, — If you could only be 
On this other side of the great wide sea. 
That divides, with its waters of greenish blue, 
Your own little Essie, your daughter, from you. 
I know we'd be happy and merry and gay ; 
For, dear, dear papa, 'tis a glorious day — 
A morning in June — not a cloud to be seen. 
The garden is fragrant, the meadows are green, 
And the river runs yonder — a silvery thread — 
And the choir of robins just over my head 
Are singing like '* fi^iy and all possessed " 
To me (and three birds in a horse-hair nest). 
Ah, if 7na tante could be allowed from her 

grave to rise, 
I think she'd change her will, when with opened 

eves, 
Slie saw liow much of change had come o'er 

the orphan cliild ; 
What heaps of savoir-vivi^e had Mademoiselle 

Essie, the wild ! 




" My old maid Aunt. 



ESSIE TO HER PAPA 87 

"Speak well of the dead," they say; I wish I 
could now, but I can't. 

For I always did, from the very first, detest my 
old maid aunt. 

She called me "Esther" (through her nose), be- 
fore I hardly knew 

The very difference between my little elove and 
shoe. 

She always kept me "spick and span," she read 
me books on " infant sin," 

And once she whipped me when I yawned and 
said, "O Aunty, that's too thin." 

She punished me with Bible texts, and with the 
sweet commandments ten ; 

And, oh, in church, if I forgot one single small 
"Amen," 

A fvord in Litany or Creed, it was a sin of deep- 
est dye ; 

And if I did not mend ni}^ way, I'd rue it by 
and by. 

She would not hear of fairy-tales — More and 
Edgeworth, goodey-good. 

Formed my stock of literature — were my only 
mental food. 

I'm glad our goat ate Hannah up ; and I'll con- 
fess right now. 



38 ESSIE 

That Miss Edgewortli fell a victim to Bess — 

our brindle co^y. 
Well, she asked me one line evening (I had 

been unusually bad), 
'* Esther, IVl like to know what you would do 

if you had 
No kind aunty to love you, and to care for 

you day l^y day ? " 
I said, "Til tell you, Aunty, Td just be ' gallus ' 

and crav : 
I'd play with Chick and the felloAvs, shinu}^ and 

marbles and ball — 
I'd go without slioes and stockings, Yd hang up 

my French doll 
On the topmost limb of the highest tree, and 

then I'd tell some lies. 
And then (to know what it felt like) I'd set up 

a shop of mud pies." 
That night she took a horrible cold, next morn- 
ing she nrade her will ; 
If I'd cheesed it about tlie lies (and the pies) 

she mio-ht be livino- still. 
Slie left me all that she possessed — jewels, 

bonds, and land, 
"• To me^ and mine forever,*' she said. But this 

was her dying command. 



ESSIE TO HER PAPA 39 

''That if her niece sliould live s^yeet fourteen 

to be, 
Slie must make a journey across the great wide 

sea, 
And enter a school in France ; there must Essie 

I'emain 
Three long and studious years, ere she journey 

home again."' 
And then she gave ns old Guardy — '-I do here 

provide 
As guardian, Mr. Jenkins, a friend botli true and 

tried." 
Papa, two years of the three have actually flown 

away. 
And there remaineth, father mine, but one little 

year to stay. 
I left my native land, papa, a very rough, rough 

stone ; 
And I greatly fear, papa, Essie has not ]_)olished 

grown ; 
Still, I jabber French like a native, and I play 

six nuisic books through. 
And I know how to walk, to dance, and to talk, 

and there's the list, Voild tout. 
I'm afraid I have not forgotten old ways, which 

you Avill regret to see. 



40 ESSIE 

When I tell you Tm writing in pencil because 

I am up in a tree ; 
Yes, not a little tree either ; but for comfort FU 

hasten to say, 
No one but the gardener knows it, the house- 
hold are all away. 
My lady lias gone with the vicar's wife to visit 

the village school ; 
Sir Cliarles has gone to a neighboring squire's ; 

and the great big, stupid mule 
They call their son McPherson (in a suit I'd 

blush to wear) 
Is off with five boon companions pretending to 

hunt for hare. 
I think I lieard them say for that, but it may 

have l)een oidy air: 
But wliatever it is, thank goodness, lie's gone, 

and wliere, I don't know or care. 
Tell Chick my romance was squelched, that the 

wonderful vii<-d-vis 
Was no other than Mr. Mac Langley — how dared 

he flirt witli me ? 
And then when Ave were presented, lie asked 

me wliicli wa}" I came down ? 
I said, " By balloon, Mr. Langle}'.*' Pa, you 

should have seen him frown. 




^d ? ;#; ^a^ A\ 




Because I am up in a tree. 



ESSIE TO HER PAPA 43 

But jNIcPhei'sou is rather good-looking — he lias 

dark brown eyes and hair ; 
But I know lie likes fast horses, and I'm sure 

I heard him swear, 
Under his breath, at his valet, for forgetting 

some triflino' thintr. 
He's off for Switzerland next week ; I'll be glad 

when he takes wing ; 
But, before he goes, my lady is going to enhance 
My misery by giving me a little informal dance 
On Thursday night on the lawn; "informal!" 

listen, my dear, 
I want you to know the things they term in- 
formal here. 
The invitations are Avritten on crested paper, and 

say, 
" It is Lady Langley's desire to make a pleasant 

day 
For her young friend, i\Iiss Essie Bruce ; Avill 

the Misses Blank prepare 
To meet Miss Bruce on Thursday next (if said 

Thursday shall prove fair) ? " 
The guests are bidden to croquet, the guests 

are asked to dine 
With Miss Bruce and Lady Langley, if the 

weather shall prove fine. 



44 ESSIE 

Then my Lady Langley knows so well, young- 
people do not scorn 
A dance at any season, that she shall have on 

the lawn 
A tent raised. There'll be music, and so the 

Misses Blank ma}^ 
Prepare to wander through the dance and while 

the evenino- hours awav. 
I think I shall Avear pink silk (I had it made 

on the sly — 
Gave the order to AVortli on a paper slip when 

Guardy turned his eye). 
It's snifty^ I tell you, pa, py^incess, train three 

yards lono- ; 
Perhaps 'twill l)e rather grand panire, for I'm 

bound to get things Avrong. 
I suppose the guests Avill come, each clad in a 

book-muslin dress, 
And behind their fans the dowagers Avill call 

my style '' excess." 
We Avill see — Fll write and tell you, oh, 

heayens I Avhat do I see? 
McPherson and his friends, papa, are coming 

toAyard this tree. 



McFHEBSON'S LETTER CONTINUED 45 



MCPHERSON'S LETTER CONTINUED 

The evening is gone, and the night lias been 

reiernino- for several hours. 
Everything that I know of s asleep ; from tlie 

garden the fragrance of flowers 
Is stealing in upon me ; 'tis a fitting time to tell 
The rather strange adventure that to all of us 

befell. 
Roys began it, I thiidv ; at all events, la belle 
Was tlie tlieme we dwelt on. (I shudder as I 

tell), 
Not for what teas said so much as what mio-ht 

o 

have been. 
Phil, 'twill be a lesson, not soon forgot by us 

men. 
At all events, Roys began it, said, '• Take it all 

in all, 
One would not call Essie ' ur/li/ ; ' for his part, 

he liked small 
Women, like la belle Sauvage ; then, as to her 

ways, ah, well, 



46 ESSIE 

She was very, very slangy I but, had she not 

to dwell. 
All her young life, in a country of blasted 

plebeian breed? 
For his part, he tliought Essie did very well 

indeed."' 
Tom said, ''The little foot that peeped out in 

croquet 
Was really enough in itself to charm one's 

heart away." 
Guinn said, '• her eyes had a trick of looking 

one throuo'h and throuo-h. 
Till a fellow caught himself blushing, as boys 

are apt to do." 
But we all agreed her a hoi/den^ regretted that 

lips so red 
Should so often give expression to words left 

better unsaid. 
We aofreed that our Eno^lish ladies would vote 

her horrid and loud ; 
And then we asked each other, collectively in 

a crowd. 
Would we be willing to offer ourselves to her 

for life? 
Would any of us fellows be willing to take as wife 
The object of our converse ? '' 'Twould be being 

cut off with a shillino- " 



MrPIJEUSON'S LETTER CONTINUED 47 

Said Guinn. "I could not ask her, even if I 

were willing." 
Tom said they would be aghast; Itls relations, 

they'd raise a cry, 
That made him say, at the thouglit, '' lie would 

not venture to tiy." 
Hoys looked glum ; he said, " An officer of our 

day, 
And particularly a junior, had plenty to do with 

his pay/' 
Well, we all said something, and prol)ably would 

have said more. 
Had not something worse than loudest cannon's 

roar 
Reached our startled ears. A voice (not "gentle, 

soft, and low," 
That excellent thing in woman the poet praises, 

you know) 
Sounded high above our heads, a voice borne 

by the breeze, 
A voice high up above us from among the 

garden trees, 
Saying, " ' Listeners never liear any good ; ' your 

comments have done no harm. 
For in all your land, not a single man pos- 
sesses a sino^le cliarm 



48 ESSIE 

For 'la belle Sauvage' ! She hates John Bull, 
Hates his arrogant, lordly Avay, and so accepts 

tliis rather full 
Dose of disapprobation. Does Sir Guinn fancy 

his poky way 
Of lifting his eyes, — a consummate art, — or 

that polished flattery 
Can win the heart of a o>irl American born — 

of a girl who was reared to believe 
That true manhood knows not how to deceive ? 
So, take the advice of Essie, each marry a flat- 
footed girl, 
Let eacli man fondly cherish as his, a native 

pearl ; 
Wear her for aye on your bosoms and you will 

never repine ; 
In conclusion, mind your business, and be sure 

/ will mind mine. 
Now, if you'll kindly retire. Til get down from 

this tree ; 
For Fve been up liere all morning, and am 

tired as I can be." 
We left, Phil, without more ado, '^ la helle " 

had us all in disgrace ; 
And we wonder how she will treat us when 

next we meet face to face. 



ESSIE TO HER BROTHER 49 



ESSIE TO HER BROTHER 

Dear Chicken, — The j)arty is over. It was 

a most perfect success, 
And 1 only wish I had the 2)ower to faitli- 

fully express 
The impression it made upon me. To give you 

a slight idea 
Of how a social gathering is arranged and con- 
ducted here. 
My lady bade me '' be ready to receive the 

guests at four ; " 
So, just at live minutes of it, I knocked at 

her boudoir door. 
You should have seen her stare, Chick ! I 

know she thouglit I looked Avell ; 
But her English reserve and training would 

not let her tell. 
I changed my mind on the pink silk that day, 

up in the tree. 
And resolved to out-do England's daughters in 

primness, if that could be. 



50 ESSIE 

At the very bottom of my trunk (hidden away 

in disgrace, 
From my 2)^^ffed and furbelowed dresses) a 

white muslin had its phice. 
Simple as hands could make it. This I resolved 

to wear ; 
I knew that this sudden change would cause 

a general stare. 
Well, on it went, this simple dress, with a rib- 
bon belt at the waist, 
And at my neck and wrists I put a ruffle of 

soft lace. 
My hair I did '• la Marguerite,'" and it hung 

like two coils of gold. 
Ah, Chick, I knew I looked pretty, without 

even being told. 
I took some half-blown rose-buds, and pinned 

them into my hair 
C Marshal Niels " are ver\' ])ecomina' to one 

whose com})lexion is fair). 
And I did not put on a jewel, in ear, on finger, 

or breast ; 
Chick, in tliu code of simplicity I could have 

stood the test. 
My slippers were only thh'teens^ as la belle 

Sauvage has very small feet; 




Marshal Nlel's are very becoming. 



ESSIE TO IIEE BROTHER 53 

And a small foot on English soil, to an Eng- 
lishman's eyes, is a treat. 
Well, we went into the drawing-room, and in 

very short time, my dear, 
The guests that had been bidden — the o-uests 

from both far and near — 
Were with us. We doiit introduce, that is not 

the en re<jle way. 
The unknown guests of my hostess are my true 

friends for the day. 
Every one talks to every one ; but, Avere you to 

meet on the morrow, 
A bow to these very same felloAvs would be to 

your cost and sorrow. 
The five Adofiises were on hand, Sweet McPherson 

at their head. 
I never saw men look so foolisli, or turn so 

lobster red. 
As they do Avhen Ave meet. I think that affair 

of the tree 
Was about as jolly a thing as ever happened 

to me. 
They feel so cheap, you know, to think I heard 

their talk. 
Just fancy me falling a victim to a stupid 
English gawk ! 



54 ESSIE 

And, above all, McPlierson Laiigley ! My clear, 

a bigger bore 
Of a goose, and a silly donkey, I never saw 

before. 
But I want to talk of the party — six girls, 

every one of tlieni fair. 
With the pinkest cheeks and the whitest teeth 

and the palest kind of brown hair. 
Six fellows (five from our house), and to 

make the number right, 
My lady had the kindness the young curate to 

invite. 
We })laved croquet with a cahnness that would 

make an angel fret, 
I'm sure. ''How could I stand it?'' I just 

hated it, you bet. 
I tossed the balls with a vengeance, I charged 

on the enemies' field. 
Until they grew more earnest, and seemed less 

inclined to yield. 
And then came the prosy dinner. McPlierson 

escorted me ; 
And I made up my mind to bore him, to be 

danyy as I could be. 
So I asked him by way of beginning, "if he 

had any money to spare ? " 



ESSIE TO HER B HOT HER 55 

"If he had, would he het I could not ride his 

colt, young ' Golden Hair ' ? " 
He had a spoonful of soup raised at the time 

to his lips. 
He tried not to look astonished, and took three 

tiny sips, 
Then gave up and said gruffl}-, "Miss Bruce, 

you never must dare^ 
As you value your soul and body, to mount 

that colt, 'Golden Hair.'" 
"Don't dare me," I answered bluntly, ''or I'll 

ride her in s|)ite of you ; 
For, if I'm told I must not^ that thing I most 

surely will do,'' 
He said, "Very well! as / pleased, but the colt 

was his, he forbade ; 
He should give this command to his groom!'' 

and we were both of us mad, 
And we never spoke another word. (McPherson 

glowered^ I planned 
How my Yankee wit could get of John Bull 

the upper hand.) 
A heap of guests arrived at night, the lawn 

was a fairy hall. 
With its tent and colored lanterns ; of course 1 

opened the ball. 



56 ESSIE 

You know what a ball is, Chick! — music and 

dance, tliat is all — 
Flirtation and whispered twaddle is about the 

whole of a ball. 
And we danced — the night wore on, and 'twas 

very, veiy late 
Before tlie last guest's carriage- wheels left the 

manor gate. 
Chick, / have not (jone to bed; Chick, Tju in my 

rld'uuf-dress ; 
Do you know what Fm going to do? I bet, 

my brother, 30U guess. 
Yes, he dared me not to ride ; he to say to me, 

*'/ command ! " 
I have no right to his old horse ; but, Charley, 

I won't stand 
His sayinor ^yhat I shall do! Good-b^'! my last 

words may be said ; 
Wlio knows but vicious '^ Golden Hair " may 

bring home Essie, dead. 




Vi»A*jivJ y-"-^ ''^^^ 



^ >fe=^. 



Good-by I my last words may be said.' 



Mcpherson to jus friend 59 



Mcpherson to his friend 

Dear Phil, — Three weeks have passed since 
your letter came to hand, 

And I'm sorry, dear old fellow, to have had to 
let it stand 

So long, without seeming reason for such a long 
delay ; 

But when you liear my excuses, yoar w^onder 
will pass away. 

I meant to write you next morning — to write 
to you of all 

That liad occurred of interest the night before 
at the ball. 

But what man so often proposes a higher power 
will change, 

Disposing one's calculations in a Avay that seems 
most strange. 

It w^as late ere the party was over; yet we fel- 
lows lingered still — 
The smoke from our '\flor del fumas'' the de- 
serted tent did hll. 



60 ES^IE 

We lauo-hecl and talked of the ball, and some- 

how when we came 
To mention la belle Sauvage, Ave dwelt upon 

her name 
With a sort of tender accent ; for, Phil, the 

little sprite 
Had (for some unknown reason) been charm- 
ingly gentle that night; 
Been gentle to all luit me; and, like one that 

is possessed 
Of a devil, appeared Miss Essie, my lady mother's 

gtiest. 
She inspired a feeling of anger; and yet Fd a 

sense of fear, 
Tliat this gray-eyed imj) of girlhood was draw- 
ing very near 
Some dangerous experience. I led her out to 

dine — 
A penance, not a pleasure^ yet, I could not Avell 

decline. 
I resolved to do the agreeable, site resolved the 

other thing — 
Restilt — all my good intentions in a moment's 

time took wing. 
Before tlie soup Avas over, Miss Bruce, Avith a 

jockey air. 



MCPHERSON TO HIS FRIEND 61 

3et me — mark you — bet me, she could ride 

young ''Golden Hair." 
I tried to keep down my horror, and (still more) 

my supreme disgust^ 
And tliat my replies were courteous I most 

sincerely trust. 
I don't remember tvhat I said, I only know it 

cast 
An utter and perfect silence over our whole re- 
past. 
Well, I thought of this all the evening, thought 

of it in the tent — 
Thought of Miss Essie's flasliing eyes, and won- 
dered if she meant 
To defy my warnings; and I resolved to tell 

the orroom 
The earliest thing in the morning, that it would 

seal his doom 
If ever he let a being, man or woman, young or 

fair. 
Or ugly or old as IMethuselali, mount upon 

'• Golden Hair." 
(So I said not a word to the boys, who liad 

by degrees slipt away; 
We were all in the land of slumber before the 
dawn of day.) 



62 ESSIE 

1 woke with a start, the village bell was calling 

out for seven ; 
I turned upon my pillow, resolving to sleep till 

eleven. 
When a thought of my purpose regarding young 

''Golden Hair," 
Changed my plan ; I at once arose, and dressed 

me then and there ; 
I hurried down — the old house was wra2)t in 

slumber yet, 
And I laughed to myself, Phil, thinking, ''for 

once ril surely get 
The best of la belle Sauvaye ; I'll stop this one 

mad prank. 
Her neck shall not be broken, and she'll have 

me to thank." 
The stable door stood open, the horses were 

champing their hay ; 
I called out for the groom, Thomas, he came 

with "Aye, sir, aye.*' 
I gave my command at once; you should have 

seen the surprise 
That came over the face of the fellow ; you 

should have seen his eyes 
Grow large with utter amazement. '' Why, 

Master, you don't tell me so; 



Mcpherson to his friend 63 

Miss Essie rid off on ' Golden Hair ' more 

than an lionr ago. 
She came and bade me side-saddle the mare, she 

said ' 'twas a bet ' 
That you had made atween you ; that she was 

afeared to set 
On such a skittish young creetur as this 'ere 

'Golden Hair.' 
I said all I could to dissuade her ; but, Master, 

I did not dare 
To say 'No' to such as Miss Essie; and, beside, 

I thouo-ht it your will. 
I was afeared^ I tell you, and am a fearing 

still." 
Tliere was no time for parley. I bade liim saddle 

'• Jane," 
Asked which direction they took. '' She went, 

sir, by hillside lane." 
I wanted no more, but galloped auay, my heart 

beatiniT liio-li with fear, 
Dreading to look, dreading to think, of what 

might soon appear. 
I galloped on ; nothing in sight, all peaceful, 

calm, and fair. 
No reckless Essie within view on more reckless 

"Golden Hair." 



64 ESSIE 

On I pressed, looked right and left, a cnrve in 

the road, a hill beyond ; 
At its foot, in the morning light, the waters of 

mill-brook pond 
Glistened in the morning snn ; then on my ear 

fell the din 
Of the Eastern-bound train, to the town beyond 

coming in. 
It turned a sharp curve on its Avay ; on it 

came — God have mercy ! — there, 
With loosened rein, and laughing face, came 

Essie upon '' Golden Hair," 
Riding along at leisurely pace ; the memory of 

her young, sweet face, 
As it looked in that moment of peril, Phil, has 

in my memory forever a place. 
The beautiful, mettlesome little mare seemed 

pleased with tlie dainty burden she bore. 
And turned her graceful neck to look at the 

face of her rider once more. 
But the sharp, shrill whistle strikes on her ear. 
Her nostrils quiver, her eyes grow wild, and 

her body trembles in nervous fear ; 
Another, another shrill resound, till far-away 

echoes take up the sound — 
One maddening plunge, one wild rebound. 



Mcpherson to his friend ^^y 

And, like tlie inoriiing wiiicl, on rushes "• (rolden 

Hair." 
I looked in speechless terror, wondering does 

slie bear 
Her rider jet, or has she flung her precious 

burden fair. 
No ; bravely liolding to the reins, on Essie 

came. 
I strained my lungs, I called the name 
Of horse and rider • — •' AVhoa I whoa, ' Golden 

Hair ' I " 
'' Keep tight hold, Essie, on that cursed mare ! " 
She heard my voice. I thought that I could 

trace 
A look of courage on the pinched white face ; 
And back upon the breeze, Phil, this reply 
Was w^ifted to my ears, '' Give in to ' Golden 

Hair,' not I!'' 
And, sure enough, friend Phil, the mare began 

to slack. 
And, as she drew up beside me, Essie remarked, 

''Mr. Mac, 
I am mrry I took 3^our dare, — a runaway is 

not gay, — 
Mr. Langley, if you've no objection, I thiidv I 

shall faint away." 



66 



ESSIE 



I had lier down from '* Golden Hair " in less 

time than I can speak ; 
She lay in my arms like a lih^ so gentle and 

white and meek ; 
Her brown hair all tossed and tumbled, her 

bonnet gone (Heaven knows Avhere) ; 

m . .^^ Wi&^ ^Or . ,fims, -.i^ir 



^rr" 



VM 



j^'*^-"* ' 



But what AYoman wants a l)onnet with such a 

wealth of hair? 
I bathed her Avhite face from the brook, holdinsf 

lier on my breast, 
And I felt in this situation 'particularly blessed; 
When the lovely gray eyes opened, and called 

me to earth again. 
By the pretty lips remarking, '^ I think I'll ride 

home on ' Jane ;' 



Mi^PHERSON TO HIS FRIEND 67 

I think I will, for my poor wrist aches like all 

possessed ; 
And i/ou can manage ' Golden Hair ' a little bit 

the best." 
Phil, since then she's been a lamb ; and now 

that the boys are awaj^, 
I suppose I must give up Switzerland, and just 

resolve to stay. 
And do the agreeable to Essie, — her vacation 

is almost passed, — 
And try to make her stay with us pleasant to 

the hist. 
In three weeks from now she leaves us, and 

then I'm coming to town. 
I shall feel quite like a hero, worthy of much 

renown. 
For having made myself a martyr to be kind 

to this little child 
(Who is not so bad, after all, Phil, only a trifle 

wild). 
Well, my letter ends; I'll be with you as soon 

as Miss B. goes away. 
And, for the present. Sir Philip, I wish you 

a very good daj^ 



68 ESSIE 



FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL 

Well, little old Journal, my trusty friend, 
Do you know my visit has come to an end ? 
And that I am back in the land I adore (?) 
Monsieur '' Johnny Crapaud\s '' dear, native 

shore ! 
My visit is over — my fair holiday. 
With the things that were, shall be put away 
Far in the past, that ever seems 
To grow bright and m(^re fair in memory's 

dreams. 
When I came that day from that horrible ride, 
I sort of and kind of 7'esolved Td decide 
Never to take a dare again (I nearly l^roke my 

neck that day, 
And, as a general practice, neck-breaking does 

not pay). 
I resolved to utter fewer words in vulgar par- 
lance called " slang ; " 
But, if life depended on keeping that vow, I'm 
afraid I'd have to hmig. 



FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL 69 

Oil ! when the whistle blew that clay, and 

'' Golden Hair " grew wild. 
Every wicked thing I'd ever done since I was 

a little child, 
Came before me in a flash. I thought my 

" bucket would kick," 
And I wondered if I was so had, that his ma- 
jesty, ^'Old Nick," 
Would catch me from wild '' Golden Hair," 

and take me down to dwell 
With Eurydice and himself, in his brimstone 

abode in — well, 
I won't name the city — but I did not care 

to go ; 
I did not like the prospect, I tell you, " not 

for Joe!" 
Then there came to me this comfort — I weren't 

so very had, 
And the Master, way up yonder, I remembered 

that He had 
Known our sin and weakness, endured tempta- 
tion too ; 
So I Avas sure He'd open the gate and let my 

little soul through ; 
And in tliat sweet assurance my fears all 

slipped away. 



70 ESSIE 

While my heart asked God " to take me," and 

my lips began to say — 
"Now 1 lay me" — softly (as I do every 

night), 
But \yhile I looked to Providence, yon bet / 

held the 7'eins tight! 
Then, lo ! upon me dawned — ]iow. Journal, who 

do yon guess ? 
Why, Mr. McPherson Langley, in his knicker- 

bocker dress. 
On his pretty mare called "Jane," with eager, 

anxious speed. 
He was hastening toward me. I was glad to 

see him, indeed; 
Somehow lie AAas not so ngly, viewed by that 

morniiio' lio-ht. 
And I don't think that man ever was so fair 

to woman's sight. 
Not Adonis unto Venus, not iEneas to the 

queen 
Called "Dido," with her wild love, looked more 

beautiful, I ween. 
He came from death to save me, ah I life is 

very sweet — 
We never know its value till death's dark form 

we meet ; 



FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL 71 

Till ^ye see the arrow quiver, feel that the 

bended bow 
Is eager to drink our heart's blood, and lay our 

head so low ; 
But I would not have liim Jcnoiu it — know I 

was glad lie'd come ; 
So I rode toward him madly, with lips both 

white and dumb, 
Till I heard his voice ('twas music) cry, " Hold 

tight, Essie ! Whoa, ^Golden Hair ' I *' 
(He might liave cried, '' AVhoa, Emma ! " for 

all that mare would care.) 
But ''Hold tight, Essie," gave me courage, and 

I clung like all possessed, 
While my heart beat, oh ! so loudly, against 

my frightened breast ; 
But I answered, in my weakness, that / did 

not mean to let go ! 
And then ('twas a marvel) " Golden Hair " 

began to slow. 
And grew slower, and still slower, in her eager 

pace. 
Till Mr. Langley and Essie Bruce were actually 

face to face. 
Of course, like a fooJ T fainted; I was mad, 

be sure of that ; 



72 ESSIE 

So weak and namhy-pamhy^ just like a regukar 

''flat." 
And wlien I sort of "came to" (but before I 

had strenofth to rise 
From a very romantic position, and too weak 

to open my eyes), 
I coukl swear, if it ivamt iviched^ tkat I beard 

as plain as day, 
McPherson say, ^^ preemis darling I " in tlie most 

smoodUng Ava}^ 
He call "/« belle Smivage'' '^ preciovs'' — call 

Essie Bruce '' darlivig " too ! 
I wonder the eartli did not open, and offer to 

let me through. 
And then, — well. Journal, — McPherson, who 

looks with infinite scorn 
Upon girls, and green me above all, hissed me^ 

as sure as you're born ! 
I suppose I should have been angry; I'm a little 

afraid I was not; 
An hour before I'd have slapped his face, and 

looked as angry and hot 
As a large, new-boiled lobster; but there I 

lay, pale and calm 
As a lily on a May morning, with my head 

on his great big arm. 



FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL 73 

But 1 had to come to myself ; 1 opened my 

eyes and said, — 
" O Mr. Mac, you're tired ; I'm sorry my poor 

head 
Proved so weak a member; thanks for your 

kindly support. 
1 won't faint agahi^ I assure you ; it's not very 

pleasant sport." 
He said, ''Thank Heaven it's over!" I replied, 

"Ah, yes, I survive;" 
Then we never spoke another word for all the 

rest of the drive. 
My lady never reproved me ; and as for Sir 

Charles, he said, 
"I was a trump;" he liked my pluck, so there 

was iiotliiinj to dread. 
And then I spent three such weeks I McPlier- 

son seemed to change ; 
And from that morning / liked Jmn ; and, what 

is still more strano-e, 
He gave up Switzerland's journey, and devoted 

himself to me. 
What caused all this sudden changing, I can't 

for the life of me see. 
The days of the three weeks flew on great, 

wide wings away. 



74 ESSIE 

And before I knew it, Journal, had come the 

parting day. 
I got up very early, intending to visit the gar- 
den below, 
To say good-by to the landscape I had learned 

to loA^e and know. 
Then I passed through tlie rustic garden gate, 

to the meadow, where the dew 
Lingered on the green blades and ''violet eyes" 

so blue ; 
And I Avished (a very silly wisli) tliat every 

drop was a tear 
Of regret, from Nature's children, that Essie 

was leaving here. 
I stooped to gather some blossoms to take as 

mementos SAveet 
Of the pleasant visit ended, when the sound of 

coming feet 
Rustled in the grass behind me, and lo, and 

behold ! there stood 
My stalwart friend McPherson, and he looked 

" very good "' 
(As the Bible hath it). His strong, blond Eng- 
lish face 
Seemed full of feeling ; and I'm sure that I 

could trace 



FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL 



75 



A sadder tone in his full voice, as lie said, 

'' Tm glad yon're here I " 
" Yes ? well, I came to say good-by to this 

meadow, grown so dear 
To '- la belle Sauvage^ your guest ; I have spent 

sucli happy hours 




*fA.*.^ i,i^j 



f*0,// 



4 



Out here among the clover and the nodding 

blue-eyed flowers ; 
And I'm glad yo^i are here ; I can say good-by 

to 3' on 
In this meadow very much better than at the 

house ril do. 



i b ESSIE 

Mr. McPherson Lano-lev, if I've ever been hate- 

fill or rude 
(And I can be both^ I know, if it happens to 

suit mj mood), 
Won't you please forgive me? You know I'm 

a perfect chikl ; 
And Tm motherless, Mr. Langley, and I've 

grown up ever so wild. 
When you first called me ^la belle Sauvage^^ I 

hated you Avith a will ; 
But now I ask as a favor, that ?/o)i will thiidv 

of me still 
As ' la petite squaw,' ' la belle Sauvage^' as just 

wild little Essie Bruce, 
With whom, after many a squabble, y(ju\'e raised 

a perpetual truce. 
And I hope and trust that some day we shall 

meet again ; 
And be assured, whenever it is, you'll find that 

you retain 
My honest and true friendship ; and I hoj^e, 

sir, ere long to hear 
That you've found the lady of your heart, some 

one just as near 
Your idea of perfection as this earth can be- 
stow ; 




" I left a kiss on his forehead." 



FROM ESSIE'S JOURNAL 



79 



But it's breakfast time — by-by, iov please — sir, 

I 7nust go.'' 
He was bending over the rustic gate, his eyes 

looking into mine, 
Mine that were brimming over with very salty 

brine 

(Salty because I tasted one), and then — oh, 

Journal — don't tell. 
For it's airful to act on impulse, but I did, and 

— and — well I 
It was a motherly impulse, and he looked so 

verfj sad. 

That 'I left a kiss on his forehead, and then 
took to my heels like ''mad/' 

Journal, I never once looked back, I did not 
see Mac again ; 

For to my lady's amazement he took the noon- 
day train 

To London; -important business called him at 

once to town." 
Business! Ms business! Fll bet that nothing took 

him down 
But to send on board the steamer such a basket 

of fruit and flowers 
Tliat I forgot to be seasick for actually several 

hours. 



80 ESSIE 

I'm back in the old dull routine, and I feel 

myself acting queer; 
I go dreaming and mooning about in a way Td 

have scorned last year ; 
Dreaming of great blond whiskers (that I used 

so much to despise), 
Of an English voice, and, above them all, of a 

pair of dark brown eyes. 
And I've actually jyressed some flowers. Guardy 

says, " I'm growing refined." 
Perhaps V\\\ in (Heaven forbid it) — in love, or 

out of my mind. 




■tiil'iitlltl^r 



y 



Mcpherson to his friend 81 



Mcpherson to his friend 

Dear Philip, — Tve no need to tell you of 

Sir Hugh's death hist week; 
The Times reported the sad event, so of that I 

won't stop to speak. 
Well, we obedient relations, like a party of 

black crows 
(Made me think of some scene from Dickens, 

in our sombre mourning clothes), 
Followed the old man's body to its last resting- 
place ; 
And then I, seeing no reason to stay, turned 

my steps to retrace ; 
For I saw no need of my going back to hear 

the will 
Of my maternal uncle, who never seemed to 

thrill 
With an overflow of affection; in fact, sad as 

it may be, 
Sir Hugh and I had never been known on one 
point to agree. 



82 ESSIE 

When a boy I was always treading on some of 

his gouty ways, 
And lie did not seem to admire the course of 

my manhood days. 
Then there were hosts of cousins who had hu- 
mored each caprice, 
So wliy did I want to hear what lieM left each 

ne[)liew and niece? 
So I was rather astonislied when nn^ uncle's 

legal man 
Beo'ored 'Td return to tlie castle" with the rest 

of the mourning clan. 
Indeed, he thought '' I had better,'' so of course 

what else could I do ? 
And we gathered in tlie parlor, looking as cold 

and blue 
As if from tlie bit ol paper the lawyer held in 

his liand 
We were to be perpetually blessed or irrevocably 

damned. 
Ye gods ! 'twas like a thunder-clap ! Some 

legacies (very small) 
Were left to others — to 7ne, Pliil, was given 

everytldiig — all ! 
Titles, estates, rank, fortune, on this condition, 

my friend, 



MiFJlERSON TO HIS FRIEND 83 

" That I should marry a tvife^" Phil, '• before four 

weeks should e7id ! '' 
After the will had been read to my disai)pointed 

kin 
(A will right and tight as a rivet), I tell you 

I felt thin 
Over the stern proviso. Once I told my uncle 

that I 
Had forsworn women forever, and a bachelor 

should die. 
He never said pro or con, but hoarded it up in 

his head, 
To make me eat with a relish my words after 

he was dead. 
Oidy four Aveeks to choose a 2:»artner for my 

life — 
Only four weeks to court a girl, and get her 

for a wife ! 
I could not keep the secret; and the girl I asked 

would know 
That if she did not have me, I'd have to let 

all go. 
And in the sweet bj^-and-by, when differences 

should be 
Occasionally discussed between my chosen one 

and me, 



84 ESSIE 

She (after the manner of her sex) would not 

hesitate to tell 
Me o'er again the story that I should know so 

well. 
Tell me '' I owed my title, my home, my wealth, 

my land. 
To her wearing my ring on her finger, to he?- 

giving me her hand." 
Then I thought over every woman known to 

me, liigh or low ; 
And to each ''Shall I ask her?'' my soul cried 

out loudly, ''No!" 
Did I say to everi/ woman ? There was 07ie, 

with soft bi'own hair, 
And wonderful star-like eyes that kept coming 

before me there ; 
A little childish creature, with a saucy, malicieiix 

face. 
By Jove ! Phil, there stood Essie ! and she seemed 

to fill the place 
Better than Lady Betty, better than Florence 

Bryne 
Whose wealth is rumored fabulous (she's con- 
sidered a diamond mine 
By fortune-hunting fellows), and she would 

give her hand 



Mcpherson to ins friend 85 

To one called j\Ir. Mac Laiigley, Tve been 

given to understand. 
But wliat's lier wealth to the bright eyes of 

a little girl I know? 
And what jewel does her casket liold that my 

darling can't bestow ? 
What pearl so fine and priceless as the per- 
fect teeth that show 
Their Avhiteness in rare contrast to the red lips' 

rubv^ o-low? 
What diamond in the wide world can sparkle 

like the wit 
Of the dashing little woman, when her lady- 
ship sees fit ? 
I could string her into a chain of jewels worth 

far more 
Than ever mortal connoisseur had gazed upon 

before. 
Ah I I, Avho had hated all women, was suddenly 

brought to see 
That my only anguish now was, lest one 

woman cared not for me. 
I resolved to make the venture ; and if I did 

not succeed, 
Why, rd have to go in pell-mell and do the 

venturesome deed 



86 ESSIE 

Of blinding my eyes, and taking the first one 

that came to hand ; 
So I gave my uncle's lawyer to thoroughly un- 
derstand 
That I accepted the arrangement, and, without 

any further delay, 
Would haste to ask the lady to speed the wed- 
ding-day. 
I stopped at Leiglicroft Manor to tell my 

parents the news ; 
To tell them of the bride I sought, and ask 

them not to refuse 
Their blessino^ if I won her. Imao-ine ! 'twas 

not a surprise. 
My lady began to hug me, with tears in her 

dear old eyes, 
To tell me, "she hoped it luoidd he^ she had 

learned to love Essie so. 
And she did not think /^er little girl would say 

to Iter hig hog, ' No I ' " 
My lord had to wipe his glasses, said, ^' all he 

had to say. 
Was, when Little Sunshine came again, it would 

be a happy day." 
So I crossed the Channel, feeling 7nost mighty 

queer ; 



McPIIEESON TO IIIS FRIEND 87 

Feeling queerer and queerer, the nearer I drew 

near. 
First I went to tlie guardian ; he looked like 

one perplexed, 
As if he very mucli wondered wliat was coming 

next. 
He said, " to tell me tlie trutli, he had very 

little to say 
On this, or an}^ matter. Miss Bruce would have 

her own tvau ; 
And that if he, her guardian, pronounced him- 
self content 
With me, as Miss Bruce\s lover, Dr. Bruce 

would give his consent." 
So we went to the school together. J\Iiss liruce 

was summoned in ; 
I shall never forget the saucy nod, as though 

she cared not a pin 
For her beloved guardian, still far, far less 

for me. 
And had not quite decided ivhom we had come 

to see. 
She nodded to her guardian, gave me her 

finger-tips. 
But her pink cheeks grew piidvcr when I 

pressed them to my lips. 



88 ESSIE 

She snatched the white hand from me, saying, 

"Mr. Mac, do you know, 
Kissing saints' fingers, 7iot sinne7^s\ is in Paris 

' all the go ' ? " 
(Slangy little Essie !) I bent, lest Guard}^ 

should liear, 
And Avhispered under my breatli into her sea- 
shell ear, 
'^ Kissing a sinner's forehead seems in Uuf/Icmd 

noiv the style. 
So wdiy should not sinners' fingers he kissed 

in France once in a while ? " 
Then Guardy found it ('onvenient to take him- 
self away ; 
And once alone, I hastened to say what I had 

to say. 
I don't know how I did. When I thought I 

had it to do, 
I pondered over the puzzle, wondering how in 

the deuce I'd o'et throuo-h. 
But, b}^ George ! it was not so hard to say, 

'' I love you, my dear ! " 
When the object of my affection was so very, 

very near ; 
Not hard to tell my story, when Essie's lovely 

eyes 



Mcpherson to his friend 89 

Were looking kindly on me, in cliildisli, pleased 

surprise. 
She listened earnestly to nie, a shadow on her 

sweet face 
Of thought I had never seen before, adding 

new charm and grace. 
Her head drooped low when I asked her " to 

be my own for life " — 
Drooped lower still, when I called her '• my 

precious little wife ! " 
Then I took her in my arms, and she raised 

her pretty head — 
Pliil, these were the very words that my be- 
trothed said, — 
'' I've got plenty of money^ so I don't marry 

you for that ; 
And as for your yietv title I care no more than 

a cat! 
But you've got to marry some one, I very plainly 

see ; 
And I suppose, take it all in all, you'd do as 

well with me 
As you would with Lady Flora (or lady any- 
thing). 
For tills T know, your lordship, there is not one 

could bring 



90 ESSIE 

In her dower the gift I cany ; and, Mac, Til 

tell you true, 
Fve tried all my mi f/ Jit to hate you, but I love 

you ; yes, I do ! 
Mac, I'll try to be better; but you must be 

better still, 
And if you are, old fello^y, I think we can 

climb the hill 
Of life very well together; and when we are 

old and gray, 
We may be glad we promised to be man and 

wife to-day. 
I am glad my lady loves me ; and Sir Charles 

is a darling, dear. 
And rd hug them both, I tell you, if they were 

only liere/' 
But I was a jealous lover ; I wanted the '• luigs " 

myself. 
Phil, I think / shall be slangy, when I get tlie 

pretty elf 
For a positive, life-long companion. We marry 

in two weeks' time. 
So, come on, old fellow, and liear our wedding- 
bells cliime. 
Essie is l)lithe as a bird. Tye promised the 

child, next fall 



Mcpherson to ins friend 91 

If the gods are propitious, Ave Avill go and make 

a call 
On the land of the ^' Star Spangled Banner."' I 

wish you could hear Essie tell, 
The surprise slie expects to create, it wouhl 

pay your hearing well. 
She says they'll expect to see her, majestic, 

stately, and wise ; 
And when they find only Essie has come Ijack, 

their surprise 
Will exceed anything ever written, for she never 

means to be 
Anything but ^^ la belle Saiwage " to the whole 

wide world and me. 
l"ni happy ; yes, so happy, that earth seems to 

hold no cloud; 
I'm satisfied beyond measure, and very, very 

proud 
Of my blithe and bonny darling: and, Phil, how 

in the deuce 
Could I ever think '' Squmc'' or ^^ Sauvage'' in 
the least like Essie Bruce? 



92 ESSIE 



FROM THE TIMES 

At tlie Legation, on Tuesday last, Avere married, 
McPherson Langley, 

Lord Crighton of Castle AVood, Thorn PI ill, and 
River Way, 

To Esther Carlton liruee, only daughter of Dr. 
Gates 

Bruce of New York City, in the United States 

Of America. The groom, Lord Crighton, stands 

High as a scholarly gentleman, and ever warmest 
praise commands. 

The bride. Miss Bruce, is beautifid, witty, accom- 
plished, refined ; 

Beloved by all who know her for both charms 
of heart and mind. 

Owing to recent bereavement in the family of 
my lord. 

And Miss Bruce being motherless, the wedding 
occurred abroad ; 

And was, we understand, a strictly private af- 
fair — 



FROM THE TIMES 



93 



None but liis lorclsliip's pjirents tuid a friend or 

two being there. 
We Avisli for my lord and lady all the blessings 

life can bestow; 
May peace and joy be around them wherever 

their footsteps go. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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